Of Migraines and Monsters
by darksupernatural
Summary: Dean and Sam visit a small town and get more than they bargained for. Sick!Angst!Sam. Angst!Hurt!Dean. Demon, psychics, and mayhem to follow.


A/N: This is my second fic. It picks up a week after Connections, but it's not necessary to read Connections. I hope you will anyway. I love writing these. Want to thank everyone for the comments. Just want to say I don't own anything Dean, Sam or Supernatural. But in my dreams, its a different story. Enjoy!

Of Migraines and Monsters

_Chapter 1_

Dean and Sam were in the Impala driving to yet another crap town and planning to stay at yet another crap motel, while they hunted something evil that didn't deserve to breathe air. After all that was what they did. The family business.

The boys weren't talking too much these days; to each other or anyone else. They were both preoccupied. Dean with his thoughts on how to stay alive for the fifty odd weeks he had left, round up 200 demons, and send them packing straight back to hell. _Before he joined them_. Sam with how to save his brother from an awful deal made for him, and how to fight his Destiny while not succumbing to the evil he felt everywhere.

Dean glanced at his baby brother. Sam was pale. It was just then that it struck him. They had been on the open road for about eight hours with no breaks and no food. _His back must be hurting him. Dammit, Dean you are an ass._ Funny he'd been saying that a lot lately.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah, Dean."

"Hungry?"

"No."

Tired of one shot responses from his brother Dean said, "Well, I am. We're gonna stop for the night at the next town." He said as they passed a road sign.

"Gray Rock, Missouri. Sounds interesting," he observed flipping on the turn signal, even though no one was behind them for miles.

Five minutes later they were in the parking lot of the only motel in town. A real winner. The place had peeling paint, shutters hanging crookedly on broken hinges and burned out light bulbs by half of the rooms' doors.

"Let's go somewhere else, Dean." Sam said, snapping out of his reverie to look at their dismal surroundings.

"It'll be okay, Sammy. Besides, there's a diner close to the room." He said pointing just up the street. Dean got out of the car and went to check them in. When Dean was out of sight Sam rested his head wearily against the seat back. He put his elbow up on top of the door panel and placed two fingers to the pressure point at his temple. He closed his eyes, hoping to mute the drumming between his ears.

"Maybe it won't be so bad." He muttered"I really need sleep" _I'm so beat I could probably sleep comfortably in the trunk._ He knew he was beaten down when he opened his eyes and his world spun on a new axis. When things stopped tilt-a-whirling for him he saw Dean approaching the car, two keys in hand. Sam righted himself in the seat, not wanting Dean to become suspicious.

"Room 09, Sammy. Got your gear?" Dean asked coming to Sam's side of the car, duffel bag in hand.

"Yeah." Sam said and pushed the door open. He stood stiffly and couldn't quite conceal a wince and a stumble.

"What?" Dean wondered, looking Sam up and down with concern in his eyes.

"Nothing. My butt's asleep."

"Well wake it up. Let's get cleaned up and go snag us some food."

"Okay." Sam said, trying to forget the agony in his head and brighten up. He had to make the most of his time with Dean just in case…_Stop it Dammit,_ he silently berated himself. _I am gonna save him no matter what it takes._

"I got dibbs on first shower." Dean said putting his key in the lock. The door opened with a squeak on its sagging hinges.

"Oh, look Sam, our dream home." Dean said, rolling his eyes, and looking at the god awful décor of the room; as AC/DC's song _'Goodbye and Good Riddance to Bad Luck'_ popped into his head.

"And decorated by a blind man at that." Sam quipped, struggling to mask a giggle at Dean's disgust. The carpet was a pale mauve under the furniture, and so dirty everywhere else it looked like mud. The walls had peeling blue wallpaper and the lone window in the room sported faded yellow drapes.

"Come on. It won't be so bad." Sam teased, mocking Dean's earlier statement.

"Ya think?" Dean snorted, going through the door and plopping his bag down on the sagging twin size bed on the left side of the room.

"Dude, take the other bed."

"Why?"

"Just do it. Please?" Sam asked, giving his brother his biggest hazel puppy dog eyes. That worked every time. Dean always caved when he did that.

"Fine." Dean said, moving his bag to the other bed. Sam dropped his bag on the floor beside the green covered bed and sat down, leaning his elbows on his thighs.

"Dude, level with me. What's going on in that freaky head of yours?" Dean inquired as he moved in front of Sam and hunkered down to see his face.

"Nothing. I'm fine, just tired."

"Yeah right, Sam. You always had a lousy poker face when it came to me, man. Level, now."

"Go get your shower. If you're sure the tub won't fall though the floor." Dean just looked at Sam. "I'll talk, I promise! Just go. I'm hungry." Dean went back to his bed, grabbed some clothes and headed for the bathroom. Sam sagged when he heard the bathroom door shut. _ I feel like crap. What the hell is wrong with me? _ He thought sullenly. He lay back on the lumpy bed and closed his eyes. Putting an elbow over his face he felt himself dozing off. He didn't fight it and succumbed to sleep, not even caring that his feet were still on the floor, or that he still had his jacket on.

_Chapter 2_

"Dude, the bathroom sucks, but the shower still felt good." Dean said, coming out of the steamy bathroom with a towel over his head, drying his hair. Getting no response from Sam he jerked the towel off his head and started.

"Sam?" He called, rushing to the bed his brother lay awkwardly across. He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Sam!" He said shaking him gently. The only response was Sam's arm falling off his face to rest on the bed above his head.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled now as he noticed how pale Sam was, except for the two red spots high on either cheek. Still nothing. Dean scooped Sam up and held him against his chest, like Dad had done all those years ago when the Shtriga had attacked. He could feel Sam's heat through his T-shirt. Checking for a pulse and realizing just how bad Sam's fever was, Dean knew he had to help his baby brother. Hunger was forgotten as he pulled Sam's arms out of his jacket. Sam remained unresponsive and slumped in Dean's arms, head lolling on his shoulders.

"Dammit, Sammy. Why the hell didn't you tell me you were sick?"

Dean laid Sam back down on the bed and pulled off his shoes. Going to his bag he pulled the first aid kit out and went back to Sam. He put the thermometer in his little brother's ear, and removed it when it beeped.

"103.4. My God." Dean knew he had to get that fever down. "Sorry, Sammy. This is gonna suck out loud." Dean whispered as he headed for the bathroom. Once there he turned on the water- cold- full blast, and put the stopper in the drain. Back in the bedroom he hauled his unconscious brother up over his shoulder and stumbled under the dead weight back to the bathroom. Flipping Sam back over his shoulder he held him against his chest. Easing down to his knees, he lowered Sam into the almost full tub of frigid water.

Sam's back arched and he screamed as his body came into contact with the water. Supporting his head with one hand Dean turned off the tap, managed to avoid Sam's flailing fists- this time- and began bathing his flushed face with water from the tub.

Dean's knees had begun to ache from the floor, and his arms were numb from keeping Sam from drowning, when he finally felt the fever leave Sam's body. His teeth were chattering and he was shivering uncontrollably, but he was still unconscious. Dean reached for the towel he'd used after his shower and wadded it up, using it to support Sam's head; he hurried into the bedroom to get it ready for a very long night. He pulled the blankets off Sam's bed, and doubled them up on the floor, creating a makeshift pallet. Then he grabbed his own and piled them up next to it. He placed two pillows at the top of the pallet and went to get his baby brother.

Dean grabbed the other two towels and crouched down next to Sam. Pulling him out of the tub was a challenge. His sodden clothes added twenty pounds to his already heavy, muscular body, and Dean's arms protested when he lifted the weight.

"This was easier when you were four." Dean stifled a groan. _A least you didn't blacken my eye, this time._ He was as wet as Sam. Laying Sam on the grimy green bathroom linoleum, Dean unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off. Next came his jeans, leaving a very unconscious Sam shivering in his boxers and undershirt. Dean wrapped him in the two remaining dry towels and hefted him, carrying him to the makeshift pallet on the floor between the beds. He laid Sam down, still wrapped in the towels; and covered him with the other blankets up to his chin, tucking him in sleeping bag fashion so no air could get to his skin.

Sam was shuddering violently, and Dean could hear his teeth clanking together.

"Come on Sammy, don't do this. You gotta stop scaring me." Twice in as many weeks Sam had come damn close to ripping Dean's heart right out of his chest. Dean hated the thought.

"You know, you really know how to upset a guy." Dean said softly, brushing a damp tendril of wavy brown hair out of his face. Sam sighed and leaned his head into Dean's hand, his shivers diminishing. Dean's breath hitched.

"Okay, baby brother. You'll be okay." Dean whispered, deciding he needed to get out of his wet clothes. He pulled his hand away from Sam's cheek and stood up.

"No, Dean…Don't leave…" Sam whispered, a tear leaking from his right eye. Dean changed into sweats and a black t-shirt in record time and was back at Sam's side.

"Shhh… I'm here." He said as Sam tossed his head restlessly. Kneeling beside Sam and resting a hand on his shoulder over top of the covers, and squeezed gently. Instantly Sam quieted. Dean watched the rise and fall of his brother's chest and wondered why he hadn't noticed his failing health. He worried that the fever was a complication of the knife wound Sam had suffered two weeks ago; or something from the other numerous hits Sam had taken on recent hunts. They had sent nine of the freed demons packing, screaming back to hell for good. _Where they belonged_.

"You gotta be okay. I love you kiddo." He murmured for his brother's ears alone, and settled in to watch his brother unwaveringly until he woke.

It was three a.m. by Dean's watch when suddenly Sam tossed on the makeshift pallet, fighting desperately to get his arms out from under the covers.

"Sammy! Sam! Sshhh….shhh." Dean said trying to comfort Sam. "You gotta stop, Sam. Stop!" He hauled Sam into a sitting position against his chest, and pulled the covers loosely up around Sam's shoulders. Dean wrapped his arms around his little brother and held him. The closest thing they'd had to a hug in too long. Even when Dean had hugged him back at the cabin, Sam was in too much pain to return it. Sam was thrashing and crying out in the clutches of some horrifying dream.

"Easy. Easy Sam." Dean soothed, rocking his distraught baby brother.

"Dean…stay."

"I'm here Sammy. I'm not going anywhere." Dean said, his breath hitching as he felt tears trickling down his face for the first time; although he was sure they'd been falling for a while.

A few minutes later his brother's cries subsided and he stopped fidgeting. Dean felt his forehead and was relieved to know his fever had not spiked again. _What the hell had him so upset?_ He took his brother's now still form with him as he leaned back against the side of his bed. Closing his eyes against their sting, Dean breathed slowly and rested, Sam in his arms, for the both of them.

_Chapter 3_

"Nuhhh… Dean?" Sam whispered just after sunrise. That small sound was enough to startle Dean fully awake. Sam shifted in his arms to look at him. "Sammy?"

Sam blinked his over bright eyes and smiled wanly at his big brother.

"Hey, how ya feeling, kiddo?" Dean smiled down at Sam.

"Dunno. Tired."

"Alright. Let's get you off the floor and into bed."

"'Kay." Dean helped him to unsteady feet and supporting him they made their way the three feet to Sam's bed.

"Man, after all that sweat, you're still heavy!"

"Jerk."

"Bitch." Sam smiled and closed his eyes with a sigh, as Dean drew the blankets off the floor and spread them over him.

Sam woke up a little after three in the afternoon. Opening his eyes, he

thought at first that it was much later, but then he realized Dean had drawn the drapes closed over the window. Looking at the other bed he knew why. Dean was stretched out on his bed wearing sweats and a black t-shirt. Snoring softly.

Sam sat up and waited for the vertigo to pass. He knew he had been sick, but he had no clue how badly. He remembered waking up early this morning on the floor, wrapped in a blanket, in Dean's arms. Dean had dry tear tracks on his face and his eyes were still red rimmed. _It must have been bad. I hate doing this to Dean._ He put his feet on the floor and rested for a moment before making his way around the pallet of blankets, slowly, and across the stained carpet to the run down bathroom.

Noticing the bathtub full of water with a towel submerged in it, he touched the surface. It was still on the cool side of room temperature. _What the hell?_ He vaguely remembered a dream about the time they were hunting a water wraith, and it had flung them into the river in early May. Now Sam realized it was no dream. His soggy clothes were still in a heap on the bathroom floor. He looked himself over in the water spotted mirror and was shocked at what he saw. Leaning heavily against the chipped rim of the sink with one hand, he turned on the water with the other. He washed his face and pulled the moisture back through his too long, unruly, brown hair. Realizing belatedly that there were no towels to dry his face he wiped it on the hem of his shirt. Dropping his shirt tail he turned around to find Dean leaning against the bathroom door jamb.

"Hey."

"Hey. You know you should be resting. You still don't feel right do you?" Dean asked noting the dark circles under Sam's eyes, and the pain lines around his mouth.

"No, not really. What's wrong with me, Dean?"

"I dunno." Dean said wrapping an arm around Sam's undershirt clad shoulders.

"Come on Sasquatch. Back to bed."

Setting his brother down on the lumpy mattress, Dean sat down beside him. Sam couldn't meet his gaze as he asked a question he already knew the answer to.

"I was pretty out of it, wasn't I?"

"Understatement."

"What happened to me?"

"Not sure. I went to grab a shower and was gonna get us some dinner since you said you were tired, and when I got out you were slumped on the bed. Out cold. You still had your jacket and shoes on. I tried to wake you and nothing. That's when I noticed the fever."

"How high?"

"103.4."

"God."

"Yeah. I dunked your ass in the bathtub to get it manageable and then sat with you. You were whacked out of your skull all night. I must say, you still look like crap."

"Nice. Thanks" Sam said with half a grin.

"Don't mention it," Dean snarked, "Now I'm gonna go get us something to eat. I'm starving. What do you want?"

"Something plain, I guess. I'm not really up for the world's biggest burger"

Dean grabbed some clothes and headed for the bathroom to change. Sam lay back on the bed and heard Dean let the water out of the tub. Two minutes later he was reaching for his leather jacket.

"You take it easy until I get back. I'll clean up the floor then."

"Hey Dean?" Sam spoke up. Dean stopped with his hand on the doorknob and glanced back. "Thanks, man." was all Sam said.

"Welcome." Was Dean's reply.

_Chapter 4_

The diner was just up the street so Dean let his baby, the Impala, have her beauty sleep. He walked through the door, gaining few looks from the locals. He ordered two burgers for himself, along with a piece of very good looking chocolate pie, and a salad and chicken sandwich for Sam. He sat down at the bar as the waitress took his order to the kitchen and reached for the paper that was nearby. After he read the front page, he grabbed two sodas and a bottle of water from the cooler, paid for everything and hurried back to the room. Sam was still sick and Dean was reluctant to let him out of his sight, even for a few minutes

His little brother was dressed and sitting at the table in the corner of the room, picking bemusedly with one hand at the chipped veneer. His chin was resting in the other.

"Plain food coming up." Dean said coming through the door. He handed Sam his sandwich and salad and straddled the other chair. Unwrapping his first burger he took a bite.

"Sammy, eat something. You need to get your strength back."

"Yeah, I know." Sam replied, picking at his salad but eating very little.

Dean handed Sam two Aspirin from the med kit, which was still on the table between them, when he saw Sam move his hand from his lap to his temple, massaging a sore spot.

"Thanks," Sam said gratefully, and swallowed the two little pills with a mouthful of water.

"Listen, at the diner I read the paper. I think I got us a gig. But I need to know you're full on okay before we take this job. I wanna see your back."

"Dean, my back's okay. I'm okay. What's the job?"

"Nuh-uh." Not until you let me see for myself."

"Fine." Sam said turning around and unbuttoning his pale gray striped shirt. He pulled it off and laid it on the back of the chair he'd just vacated. He flexed his back muscles for Dean to see as he came around the table. Then he rotated his shoulders as Dean stepped closer to inspect the scar left from the knife. The bruising was gone and there were no tender spots left, Dean surmised, when he ran his hand down Sam's back and got no reaction.

"Okay? Sam asked, turning to face Dean as he put his shirt back on. Sam had both hands occupied buttoning his shirt, when Dean put a hand to his forehead. _No fever._

"Dude, you're overreacting. I'm fine." Sam said swatting Dean's hand away.

"Am not. Last night you were so jacked up, I thought you were gonna break your teeth, shivering. Besides, I'm your big brother; I have a right to worry."

"Look, I appreciate it. But when are you gonna learn that's mutual, Dean" Sam chided as they sat back down at the table. Sam began eating for Dean's benefit. _ And he's right. I do need to get my strength back_.

Changing the subject, Dean said, "Anyway I was waiting on our food when I caught a story on the front page of the local paper. Headline read 'Two People Dead in Two Days.' Caught my eye. Turns out these two people, one man, one woman, were both found dead in their homes. Both locals. Lived here all their lives." Dean said taking another bite of his second burger.

"And?" Sam inquired.

"Severe cerebral hematoma. Cause unknown."

"Strokes?" Sam said incredulously. "That's not a job, Dean. That's too much junk food." He quipped, in a roundabout way chastising Dean for his freaky diet.

"Both people were in their twenties, Sam."

"Oh."

"By the way, I called the coroners office on the way back here, pretending we were med students researching unusual deaths. Asked her if we could see the bodies. We have a meeting in twenty minutes."

"Let's go."

_Chapter 5_

Dean pulled the Impala up outside the Coroner's office and they got out and walked in, fake student IDs in hand.

"Hi, I'm Mike. This is Justin." Dean took the lead, introducing them to the Coroner's assistant. "We're the med students here to see the Sawyer and Nelson bodies."

"Oh right. Go on in. She's expecting you."

Dean looked at Sam. _She, _he mouthed. Sam snickered and rolled his eyes,

as they went into the exam room. The smell of formaldehyde was overpowering. Sam's stomach lurched and he paled as they walked up behind the coroner.

"Hi. I'm Mike. This is Justin. We're the med students that called about the Sawyer and Nelson bodies."

"Oh right." She said turning around. "I'm Clare."

"Can we see the bodies?" Sam a.k.a. Justin asked.

"Sure. This way." Clare was a five foot something brunette with short hair and designer glasses. _ Nice. _ Dean mused.

Sam elbowed him too get him moving, and they followed Clare to the other side of the room where she unlocked and pulled out two huge drawers exposing the bodies. Both were covered in sheets up to their necks.

"What's the cause of death? Sam asked taking a small step beck when he noticed the blood that had leaked out of the victims' noses and ears. He swallowed hard to fight the bile rapidly rising to the back of his throat.

Clare cleared her throat. "These people's brains literally compressed in on themselves. Practically liquefied. Kind of like deep sea pressure related deaths." Sam was turning green, Dean noted, and shoved him back a few feet.

He took over. "How does something like that happen on dry land? Police report said they were both found in their homes. Was there anything unusual about these people's health before their deaths?"

"Both of their medical reports listed high instances of migraines. But other than that, no. If I didn't know better, I'd swear that someone squeezed these peoples' brains to mush. But there's no fractured skulls, no bruising; so I'm going with stress induced strokes. I like my job."

"How do Twenty-somethings have strokes? Sam asked.

"It's rare, but it happens. Just like a young person having a heart attack."

Sam was still fighting nausea when Dean chimed in, "I think we have all we need for our papers. Thank you for your time, Clare. We'll be in touch" Dean grabbed Sam by the elbow and hustled him out of the morgue. Getting to the Impala, Sam leaned his back against it and doubled over. Dean was at his side with a cool hand on the back of his neck. Breathing slowly, Sam battled sickness until he felt he could stand again.

"I thought you were okay."

_Breath-_"I thought so, too."-_ Breath- _"Formaldehyde."

"You wanna go back to the room?"

"I'm okay now. Fresh air helped. Let's check out the victims' houses."

"You sure? Cause I swear if you barf in my car…"

"Yes!" Sam said giving Dean one of his own patented eye-rolls.

_Chapter 6_

"Okay, here we are. First victim's house. Rebecca Sawyer." Dean said Pulling a police report out of his jacket pocket. "Twenty- four. She was a Librarian. Lived alone. No living relatives in town. She was found by a neighbor because her dog kept whining, wanting _in_ the house." Dean said as they entered though the 'Crime scene' tape at the side door.

"Why is that odd?" Sam asked surveying all of the delicate antique furniture and china displayed everywhere.

"Dog is a Mastiff. If I were Rebecca, odds are I wouldn't want the dog in the house."

Dean and Sam cased the house. Dean with his EMF detector, and Sam with a thermal imager. Neither had any leads until Sam walked to a living room window. "Hey Dean? Where was she found?" He asked; his eyes glued to the outside window sill.

"About three feet from you." Dean said pointing to an obvious chalk outline on the blue carpet.

"Oh, right." Sam said distractedly. "I got something." He pushed open the

window, and ran two fingers over the sill; holding them up for his brother to see.

"Sulfur"

Twenty minutes later they were in the Impala outside Thomas Nelson's door. "Same thing. He was twenty- seven. Found on his kitchen floor. Neighbor again. This time coming to deliver mail that made it into the wrong box." Going around the back of the house, the boys were inside in less that a minute. Sam was at the window.

"More sulfur, Dean."

"Okey dokey. Let's get back to the room." Sam slid into the car and rested his head against the seat back. Dean stole a sideways glance at his little brother when he sighed.

"You're tired aren't you?" Dean asked, looking back at the road.

"Yeah." Sam said closing his eyes. The boys were silent the remainder of the trip back to the motel. When Dean pulled into the lot he got out and went to Sam's side. Sam had yet to raise his head. Dean opened his door and crouched down. Putting a hand on his little brother's shoulder he shook him gently.

"Come on Sammy. Let's get you inside."

"'Kay." He said sleepily. He let Dean pull him out of the car and support him. Together they walked to the door, went through it, and made it to Sam's bed. Looking at Sam, Dean took notice that the circles under his eyes had gotten darker. The pain lines around his mouth had also gotten more pronounced. Pulling his jacket off, then his shoes, with minimal assistance from Sam; since he had to concentrate just to sit up; Dean helped his baby brother stretch out on the bed.

"Get some rest, Kiddo." Dean said brushing tendrils of hair out of Sam's eyes. Sam once again turned his face into Dean's palm unconsciously seeking comfort. It broke Dean's heart. He shed his jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his army green button-down shirt, and headed for the laptop. He had some questions and he was going to find answers.

_Chapter 7_

After what seemed like only a little while, Dean glanced up to find it was dark outside. Looking at his watch, he was shocked. "9:46 p.m." He was hungry but he knew the diner was closed. He did remember a vending machine outside the dilapidated motel.

"I wonder if there's anything in there that hadn't seen better days ten years ago." He muttered and glanced at Sam. His brother had slept, unmoving, these last five odd hours. Dean was beginning worry again. _ God, I hate that feeling._ Striding quietly to Sam's bed, he watched the rise and fall of his brother's chest. Placing a hand to his forehead, he noticed there was no fever, but he also noticed how pale he was.

"Damn, Sammy. What's up with you, huh?" Sam didn't move. Dean went to the door and opened it.

"Back in two minutes, baby brother. Be okay." He went through the door and closed it softly. Sam's head tossed to the right, his already closed eyes scrunching up in pain.

"Nuughh…" he cried, head flopping back to the left as he turned on his side.

Opening his eyes, slowly, he was greeted by an empty room and an explosion between his ears. Curling into as small of a ball as his 6'4" muscular frame would allow, he shot the butts of both palms up to his head, pressing them to the ridge of his eyebrows. He hoped it would alleviate the awful pain.

"D-dean?" He tried to call out, but a whisper was all he heard. And that was enough to send his brain into another round of violence. All he could do was clutch at his head, rocking back and forth softly on his left shoulder. He was facing the motel room door when it opened. Dean had half a dozen things in his hand. Two sodas, chips, and candy- peanut M&M's – and it all hit the floor when he saw his agonized brother.

Dean took the direct route to Sam's side, jumping over his own twin size bed.

"Sammy!" He cried, sitting down and wrapping an arm around his brother's right shoulder, massaging circles along his spine. "Sam. What?" Sam stopped rocking and leaned his pounding head against Dean's knee. Still keeping his palm pressed to his temple, he turned his face up, desperate to see his big brother's face, to feel the comfort being around Dean always provided. He glimpsed Dean's worried, haggard features through a halo of white. Sam knew what was coming…

Sam had his eyes open and had glanced at Dean. "Okay. You're…" Dean stopped mid-sentence when he saw Sam's eyes take on that all- too-familiar unfocused stare. Sam was no longer with him. He was having a vision.

_A young woman was sitting at her kitchen table, notebook and pen in hand. She had a glass of water beside her and a long haired gray cat rubbed at her feet. She was a writer and words always flowed easily from her mind to ink and paper. Except tonight. She had written about half a page when her head began to pound. "Oh God. Please don't let it be another one of those…whatever the hell they are." She muttered, dropping the pen to massage her temples. She pushed back from the table and stood to get something for the pain when the pressure increased. Both hands shot back to her head and she felt her nose begin to bleed. The pressure yet again intensified and she groaned, blood now leaking from her ears and discoloring her long auburn hair._

_As she slumped forward against the table, she knocked over her water glass, sending it crashing to the laminate floor. Her cat, startled by the noise, jumped to the counter top. Woman and water glass lay broken on the floor as blood mixed with water and running ink from her newest-unfinished- story. Movement at the window drew the cat's attention and it began hissing and spitting, growling menacingly. _

_The moon had come out from behind the clouds and as Sam watched the end of his vision, he could make out the shape of a girl. When the moon shone on her face he could see her eyes. They were black._

_Chapter 8_

Sam closed his eyes tightly and turned his head away from Dean's knee. Pressing his face into the mattress he couldn't stifle the agonized moan that escaped him. He continued to clutch at his head, while Dean rubbed his back trying to comfort when, in reality, he felt completely useless.

"Shhh…its okay Sammy. It's over…" Dean used to say those words to Sam when he was little, after nightmares, after hunts. Funny how they still worked today. Sam sniffed and lifted his face to meet Dean's green eyed worried gaze. He faltered when he felt his nose running, not wanting to look like a baby to his brother. Sam wiped a shaky hand across his face, and stared in horror as it came away bloody. Dean took notice and got Sam under the arms, jerking him upright in bed.

"Sam, let me see." Sam looked at Dean as he pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket. The blood had run down over Sam's lips. Dean wiped it away, gently, scared to death for his baby brother's health. It didn't return.

Sam hunched his shaking shoulders and drew a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. All the while, Dean was there, the strong one, rubbing Sam's back and doing more to calm him than a valium.

"I'm okay." Sam said finally.

"What did you see?"

"The next murder."

Dean moved to sit on his bed, not taking his eyes off Sam, as he described the woman, where she was, what she was doing, and how she died.

"There was shape outside her kitchen window in the dark. The woman's cat drew my attention to it. The moon had come out from behind a cloud as the shape moved away from the house. It was a girl. The light shown on her face. She looked about my age. But Dean, her eyes were black."

"So she's possessed. That explains the sulfur. But why is the demon killing these randoms."

"I bet if we do more research we'll find another link between these people, besides the way they died. The woman who was killed in my vision muttered something when her head started to hurt."

"What?"

"She said, 'Please don't let it be another one of those…whatever they are.' I think she is psychic. Dean, I think she is another generation of people like me. I'd be willing to bet the others were too. Migraines." Sam said tapping his temple, albeit gently, with his finger.

"Why would a demon be killing psychics if…" Dean trailed off

"If one of us was supposed to be their leader." Sam finished, his hazel eyes hardened in resentment of all that statement implied.

Dean stood up and began pacing, in his characteristic way. "Sam, take the Impala and get the hell out of this town. I'll find the girl with the cat and the demon and do the exorcism myself."

"No way, Dean. We don't know which demon this is yet or how powerful it is. Hell, we don't even know which exorcism rite will work. I'm not leaving you here. I'm not gonna let you get killed. _Ever. _

"Sam, listen to me. You're psychic. You're in a town where a demon is killing psychics. You're in easy reach and that means you're in danger. I can't have that. Now pack and go, dammit!"

"No."

"Sam…"

"NO!"

"Dammit!" Dean swore, swinging a fist at the wall. He was rewarded by a small dent in the drywall, sore knuckles and a small cut under the silver double band he wore on his right hand.

"You can be so freakin' hardheaded sometimes. You know that."

"I was taught by the best." Sam grinned.

"Yeah. I guess so." Dean conceded._ At least I'll get to keep an eye on you._ He thought.

Sam stood up, working the wrinkles out of his shirt. "There's one thing I don't get. The psychics of any generation have been almost impossible to find. How is it that we stumbled into a town with three natives?"

"Maybe old yellow-eyes wanted his very own '_Village of the Damned.' _The bastard. Have I mentioned lately how very glad I am that Son of a bitch is dead?"

"Yeah. Me too."

"We gotta find that girl, both girls."

"Hopefully we find them before they're within spitting distance of each other. Let's get some sleep. We can't do anything tonight."

_Chapter 9_

The next morning the boys had no idea where to start looking for the woman from Sam's vision. Even in this small of a town just bumping into her on the sidewalk wasn't gonna happen. They weren't that lucky. Sam knew they were running out of time. In his vision the moon was three quarters full. That was tonight.

"She's a writer, Dean. She has to get her supplies somewhere."

"You said she had a pen in her hand, and a notebook in front of her. She can get them at any dime store."

"Not really."

"What?"

"The pen she had in my vision was one that uses smudge-proof ink. She is left handed. She would need smudge-proof ink. Those things are usually special ordered, even from the biggest office supply stores. If she gets them around here, it would cost a pretty penny..

"You are like a walking, talking encyclopedia of weird, Dude."

"I'm just saying that pen she uses would cost her about eighty bucks. It should be real easy to find out if she buys them locally."

"Eighty bucks for a pen! Man that's jacked."

"Come on. I got an idea." Sam said, putting twenty dollars of the table and heading for the door.

"Where are we going?"

"The market."

Dean waited in the Impala while Sam walked in and looked around. It was a combination grocery, pharmacy, small hardware and office supply store. Sam found the stationary aisle. No eighty dollar pens. Spying a clerk he walked over.

"Excuse me?" I'm looking for a smudge-proof pen. I'm a writer and mine ran out of ink. But I'm left handed and regular pens are a pain."

"Charlie," the clerk called out. "Come here a minute."

"Yes?" A short friendly looking man asked, walking up to Sam.

"Hi. I'm Sam. I'm looking for a special pen. I'm a left handed writer…"

"Smudge proof."

"Yeah. How'd you guess?"

"I have another left handed writer who's a regular customer. Julia. I order her's in twice a month. She goes through them quick. Oh, but she can write. Her stories are amazing. But at $79.99 a clip, I'd use a word processor."

"You know, I've tried that. I just can't get the words to flow staring at a screen like I can with ink and paper."

"She says the same thing."

"Do you have one of those pens?"

"I have a shipment coming in-" he looked at his watch "- in about twenty minutes. Have four of them then. I reckon Julia will be in for two, but I don't see the harm in selling you one. I'll just order more next week. Say, I haven't seen you around here before."

"Oh, I'm just passing though. I'm moving to Colorado to write full time. I love the mountains. I tell you what; I will definitely be back for one of those pens. I haven't had breakfast yet."

"Maggie's diner is about fifteen minutes from here."

"Yeah. I ate there last night after I got to town. Good food. I'll see you soon. Thanks."

"You're welcome." Charlie said as Sam walked off. "Writer's and eighty dollar pens…" Charlie chuckled and shuffled of to check in the shipment that would arrive in a few minutes.

Dean saw Sam striding back to the car. "Well?" He asked as Sam opened his door.

"I was right about the pen. He has a special order shipment coming in. Four of them are on the truck. $79.99 a pop, and her name is Julia. She'll be in for two of the pens."

"When's the truck come?"

"Fifteen minutes." Sam said looking at his watch. They settled in to wait.

_ Chapter 10_

"Dean, that's her." Sam nodded to a slight figure, walking into the store, her long auburn hair sparkling in the sunlight. She couldn't have been more than five and a half feet tall, but she carried herself with confidence. They waited until she came out of the store, small paper bag in hand, and got into her car. A mint condition classic Chevy Malibu.

"Nice ride." Dean observed. The Malibu roared to life and exited the parking lot. It turned right onto the main road and traveled towards the opposite edge of town. The boys followed at a discreet distance in the Impala. When she pulled into the driveway of a gray stone cottage, Dean and Sam drove on past. Sam looked back in time to see her through her kitchen window petting a gray cat that lounged on the window sill.

"Well, now we know where she lives. That wasn't so hard, Thanks to you, Geek boy."

"Funny. Now we gotta find the demon. That's gonna be the hard part.

Driving to the edge of town, Dean turned the car around and they headed back to the diner for a late breakfast. They ate and talked quietly about nothing important. They knew better than to bring hunting up in public. They'd be carted off to rubber rooms before they could blink twice.

Walking out of the diner after a hearty breakfast of steak and eggs, Sam stopped short. Reaching out a hand, he stopped Dean.

"That's the girl."

"You sure?"

"Oh, yeah." He said as she noticed them and her eyes flashed black. She grinned and waved at them before turning and walking away calmly.

"She recognized us."

_She knew he was in town. She could feel his energy. The psychic hunter. Their supposed leader. He wasn't leading them. He was sending them back to hell with one way tickets. He would be such a trophy kill, him and his brother. She didn't fear Sam Winchester. She feared His brother, Dean. The strong one._

_As long as he was alive, Sam would fight his Destiny and Dean would be his strength. She was determined to take the younger Winchester's strength from him before she killed him. She didn't need a leader._

_She knew they would find her again, before tonight. Before she killed the auburn haired writer. They would try to trap her, and exorcise her from the body she was hosting. But it wouldn't work. She would trap the brothers Winchester first, have fun and slaughter them both. Dean before Sam's very eyes and Sam as a trophy kill._

"We've gotta go warn Julia, Dean"

"Yeah? What are we supposed to say Sam? A demon is coming to kill you tonight because you're psychic. Can we use your living room for an exorcism?"

"Yeah."

"Oh good, 'cause that'll work so well." Dean said, his voice dripping sarcasm.

"Let's go to Julia's place. I'll make her understand."

"Sam…"

"Please Dean. We have to save her. I have to save her."

Twenty minutes later, they were outside Julia's house in the Impala.

"Dean, follow my lead on this one, please?"

"Whatever." Sam got out of the Impala and walked to the front door, Dean on his heels. Knocking on the door, he had decided what he was going to say. Julia answered the door, her cat in her arms.

"Yes?"

"Hi. I'm Sam. This is my brother, Dean. Can we talk to you for just a minute?"

"Okay," she said reluctantly, automatically 'reading' the boys. She felt she needed to listen to them, to trust them. She had the feeling the youngest on had a secret of his own. Like her.

"Listen, we drove by your place last night and we saw someone in your side yard. They were looking through your window."

"Oh my God. That's my kitchen. I was writing in my kitchen most of the night." She said, horrified. "Why would someone be watching me?"

Sam got straight to the point, not caring if she thought he was insane. "I saw you die. In a vision. I'm psychic, and I know that you are too…"

"Sam!" Dean interrupted shocked that Sam would just blurt that out. Sam just held up a hand and continued.

"You've read the papers? You saw where those other two people died?"

"Yes. Thomas was my friend." She said blinking tears away.

"Something killed them. Something evil. Because they were psychics. It's coming after you, and probably me, tonight. My brother and I know how to stop it, but we need your trust, and your help. Julia, please. We can save you. I can. But we need to know some things"

"Like what?" She asked, willing to let them in. She sensed Sam was a good person, rallying against a dark fate. And his brother- she read a fierce protectiveness, for all things Sam- in him. She had to admire the brothers. She led them to her living room.

"What are you're abilities?"

"I really don't know too much about them. They scare me. But I've had- what did you call them?"

"Visions?"

"Yes. I've had a terrible headache come on suddenly and then a flash of white and I'm seeing things, some good and some awful. A couple days later, I'll read about them. The very same thing I saw. That Rebecca girl. I saw her die, the same night it happened. I didn't know her well and I tried, but I couldn't find her in time. When I finally found her house, the police were already there.

Dean, who had been quietly sitting in an armchair, chimed in. "You saw how she died?"

"I saw a figure watching her from outside a window. Just standing there. I saw her throw her hands up to her head and scream, blood dripping from her nose and ears. Then she was on the floor, not moving. Is that what happened to Thomas?" She bowed her head, a tear dripping into her lap. "That's what's going to happen to me?"

Sam, who was sitting on the couch beside her, reached out and tilted her face toward him. He placed his big hand on her cheek and wiped away another tear with his thumb.

"No. It's not." He said quietly.

_Chapter 11_

"I'll get what we need out of the car." Dean said, getting up and going to the door. Minutes later he was back with a duffel bag. He began emptying it on the kitchen table. The contents had Julia wondering what kind of people she'd decided to trust with her life. Dean put salt, holy water, amulets and a book, obviously written in Latin, out on the table. Along with rope, black chalk and a wicked looking knife. She looked at Dean and he picked up the knife and put it back in the bag. Sam walked up beside her and put a hand on her arm. She started.

"Sorry."

"How do you know about this stuff?"

"It runs in the family. My mom was killed by a demon when I was an infant. Our Dad learned it was still out there- along with other unspeakable things- in the dark. He learned how to hunt and destroy them. He taught us. We caught up to the thing that killed Mom two weeks ago. It's dead."

"Why don't you stop?" She asked reading Sam's thoughts, and realizing the fight had cost them both dearly.

"There are more of them out there. We still need to do what we do. Save people. Stop evil. Save you.

Julia put a delicate hand to Sam's cheek. "You will."

"Hey, stretch," Dean piped up, grinning as he tossed Sam the black chalk from the table. "You gotta do the Devil's Trap." Sam caught the chalk and went to the living room, starting to draw on the ceiling. Julia went to Dean's side.

"What's he doing?"

"Setting a trap for our little black-eyed friend. We can trap the demon, keep it from using its powers, and exorcise it from the girl it's hosting; send it screaming back to hell."

"And is it hard on the person?

"We try not to be." Dean said softly, flashing back to Meg and everything that happened. Dean stalked off, salt in hand to fortify the house. By the time Sam finished the Devil's Trap, it was dark.

"Okay." He said coming up to Julia. "We need to get you in place. Grab your writing stuff and sit in the chair. You need to relax and actually write, so the demon won't be suspicious."

"Okay, that shouldn't be hard. I already have an idea for a new story."

"Dean, did you salt the doors and windows?"

"Yes, Dad. Dude, I know what to do! Every one but the front. It seems like she has to see to use her powers. It's a solid wood door, no window. She'll have to come through it. When she does she'll be right under the Devil's Trap."

Julia sat down in the armchair as Sam had directed. They grabbed their weapons and got into place. Not five minutes later the lights flickered.

_Chapter 12_

_She's here._ Sam mouthed to Dean. Dean nodded in return. Suddenly the front door flew open with so much force it buried the knob in the drywall. The girl- demon- stood in the doorway, black eyes filled with rage.

"I know you're here, Winchesters. Come out, come out wherever you are." She taunted in a sing-song voice, still standing right inside the doorway. Sam and Dean stood in unison, guns drawn.

"You can't shoot me, You'll kill the girl. After what you did to dear Meg, do you really want the guilt? You're dead. You're all going to die, slow and messy."

"Why don't you come get us, if you want us?" Dean taunted, trying to lure her into the trap. She took two steps forward. Not enough.

"I don't have to come get you. I just have to see you." She said to Dean, squinting her black eyes. Dean's gun jerked in his hand and clattered to the floor as he screamed in agony. He clutched his head.

"Aaaahhhh!" Breathing in gasps, he dropped to his knees, blood streaming from his nose.

"Dean!!" Sam yelled in terror. He knew he had to do something, before the bitch killed his only link to goodness. He looked at the door behind the demon while she was focused on Dean. _Concentrate. Dammit Sam, save your brother!_ The door vibrated on its hinges and swung forward, freeing the knob from the wall. It hit the demon square in the back, propelling her forward- under the Devil's Trap. The solid wood door hit the jamb so hard, it splintered at the hinges. The demon was now powerless.

Dean slumped to his side on the floor, eyes closed, breathing heavily. Sam rushed to his side.

"Dean… Dean!" He said dropping to his knees and looking into his brother's agonized, bloody face. Sam hoisted Dean and sat him on the couch. "Talk to me, Dean, please." He begged, pulling his own handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping his brother's blood away.

"Okay." Dean whispered hoarsely, leaning forward and putting his head between his knees, breathing deeply. "Finish it." He groaned.

Chapter 13

The demon was standing patiently inside the ring of the trap, an evil smile on her face. Sam was furious. "What are you smiling for, bitch?" He asked, venom dripping from his voice.

"I got to hurt something precious to you, and I forced you to use your abilities. Go ahead and send me back to hell. I'll get a hero's welcome. You're one step closer to going Darkside, Sammy." Her black eyes flashed yellow, and as Sam stared in horror, black matter spewed from the girl's mouth. When it contacted the Devil's trap on the ceiling it erupted into flames and disappeared. The girl slumped to the floor, unconscious.

"Is it over?" Julia asked with a shaky voice. The whole time she had stared on, not making a sound and not entirely believing everything she was seeing. Now that it was finished, she didn't know what to think

"Yeah, I think." Sam said shakily, everything that had happened finally hitting him. Dean groaned and slumped to the floor in front of the couch where he had been sitting.

"Dean!" Sam rushed to his fallen brother's side. He had hit his head on the coffee table, overturning it as he fell. Sam righted the table and laid him on the couch, kneeling beside him.

"Julia, get me a bowl of water and a washcloth, please. Julia!" That got her moving and she practically sprinted to the kitchen. Coming back into the living room with a large bowl of water, she put it by Sam on the coffee table, going to the bathroom for a washcloth. She returned and seconds later, handed it to Sam. He dipped it in the water, squeezing out the excess, and bathed his brother's blood stained face.

"Dean… Come on, Dean. Wake up, man. Don't scare me like this, Dean." Sam begged softly, a tear rolling unchecked down his cheek. Still nothing from his brother, except for too shallow breaths. Sam was crying in earnest now, tears flowing freely.

"She was right. The demon was right. You are precious to me. You're my only link to goodness… please, Dean." Sam trailed off, laying his head on Dean's chest and listening to the faint beat of his heart. After what seemed like an eternity, but was only a couple of minutes Dean stirred. Sam raised his head with a start, his red rimmed eyes searching his big brother's face in hope.

"Sammy?" Dean struggled to open his eyes.

"Yeah, Dean." He said, placing a large palm on Dean's chest.

Dean looked at Sam and reached for him. "You been crying?" He asked, using Sam's shoulder to pull himself into a sitting position.

"No." Sam protested. His eyes welling, even as he smiled; moving to sit beside Dean and support him as he wavered.

"Yeah, right, baby brother." Dean said, enveloping his brother in a real, much needed, hug. Sam hugged him back. Julia watched on quietly, a smile on her face. She knew just how she was going to end her newest, best story.

After exchanging phone numbers and putting Dean in the Impala' passenger seat, Sam said his goodbyes to Julia. As she headed in to deal with the unconscious girl in her living room; they started back to the motel. Dean seemed okay as the pulled into the parking lot and walked to the room, with only Sam's hand on his back to steady him. Dean sat down at the table and rested his chin in his palm. Sam sat opposite. He had to tell his brother what he did to the demon with the door.

Sam sighed, looking at the chipped veneer on the table. "I used my abilities, Dean." He said his voice barely above a whisper.

"What did you do?" Dean asked cautiously, no emotion on his face.

"The demon was hurting you so I shut the door behind her. Smacked her in the back with it and knocked her into the Devil's Trap. It was just like with Max Miller. Except I controlled when it happened. I just couldn't control the force behind it. I broke Julia's door." Sam said in a rush, his voice letting Dean in on how upset Sam was about using his abilities.

"Sammy," he said, coming to a decision. "I'm proud of you. You saved the girl. Hell you saved me. I think you should learn to control your abilities, learn what you can do with them and learn their limits. It's like pain. Like Dad said. If you control it, it can't control you. I'll be by your side every step. I'll help you control this. Once you master this, it can't have dominion over you. You won't fear it anymore."

"You mean that?"

"Hell yeah! Now let's get outta this town and this crap room."

They packed their bags in record time and hit the open road. BTO's _Roll on Down the Highway_,blasting through the Impala's speakers. Both boys had a smile on their face.


End file.
